In the great silence
the flowers seeded and grew,
the rain fell, the land took a breath,
exhaled.
The sun turned on its wheel
heedless to the forecast doom.
In the great silence
the leaves folded, took their queue
and detached from the branch,
to become the first fruit
of a fallen carpet,
destined for mulch.
In the great silence, north and south,
the seasons changed,
exchanged batons.
The earth, on its axis, followed a path
long trodden,
defined by millennia past.
And in the great silence
the people burrowed in,
appeared on occasion for air,
and breathed secure for knowing the earth
carried on its resolve,
resolute in purpose.
And in the great silence
the planet rested,
the people rethought their focus
and slowed,
unfolded from the weight of lament and fear,
and returned as a world newly formed.
And in the great silence
the people rebuilt their altars,
with the memory of the lost
freshly engraved,
and with the lessons of the earth
and their treasures preserved
the people conceived of a new way.
Ana Lisa de Jong
Living Tree Poetry
March 2020
1 comment
Wonderful poem, Ana. Perfect for this time.